Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten summers. Sunlight sliced through a gap in the boarded-up window, illuminating motes dancing in the stillness. Elias pulled a cardboard box from the shadows, its contents promising a voyage back. He recognized his mother’s careful handwriting on the label: "Elias – School Days."

He knelt, his back protesting the sudden movement. The first item was a painstakingly crafted diorama of a volcano, complete with cotton-ball smoke. He could almost smell the Elmer's glue, that pungent odor that always signaled creativity and deadlines. A small smile flickered across his face.

He traced the outline of a second-grade penmanship exercise, his own name scrawled across the top. He found himself chuckling at the wonky "E" and the slightly uneven spacing. He recalled the frustration of learning to write, the sting of the pencil against his skin as he struggled to keep the letters within the lines.